


The Midnight Tryst (Northanger Abbey Fluff One-Shot)

by Introcorn



Category: Northanger Abbey - Jane Austen
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27350281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Introcorn/pseuds/Introcorn
Summary: Catherine Morland still struggles with romanticizing everything...but in her efforts to not be so romantic, could she be overlooking clues of someone who truly feels romantically towards her?(or, "The One Where Henry Tilney sits and simmers in a pot of feelings and yearning")
Relationships: Catherine Morland/Henry Tilney
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	The Midnight Tryst (Northanger Abbey Fluff One-Shot)

Catherine listened from within the guest chamber that the Tilneys had had her occupy. The large and boisterous clock in the hall had clanged, announcing midnight’s arrival, and she meant to take advantage of the night’s hour.  
With a hurried glance in the looking glass, she only spied undone and unruly dark hair and her white nightgown. If a maid or butler found her undressed as she was, she could only imagine what tomorrow’s gossip would be- how strange they would think she was! But she felt quite stifled in her chamber, though spacious as it was. The little window did not have a flattering view, and she preferred ignoring it to actually looking out of it. There was a certain window in a hall, though, that she admired and wanted to look out, and just… think. Nothing gave her such serenity like that of looking out a transom window, no matter the time of day, and pondering. This certain window was tall and wide, and had a large sill, large enough for her to sit on. It overlooked the garden and the hedges, and she could just imagine that the stars and moon would be very visible.  
Ever since Henry had chided her about her accusations towards his father, she had tried her best to ground her imagination and be as much of a realist as her free-spirited personality could allow. Admiring nature helped immensely, but simultaneously, it also ignited a spark of realistic romance. She had first learned to love hyacinths in Bath, but here at Northanger Abbey, she soon learned to love better things that also began with “H.” Heather, honeysuckle, hydrangea, and… Henry.  
If Henry actually cared for her more intensely than that of a loving brotherly figure, she was not sure, but for whatever reason, General Tilney hinted rather strongly at a union between herself and Henry. Comparisons between Northanger Abbey and Mr. Allen’s place constantly took place, though that befuddled her, too. Why not ask of her father’s parsonage? Did he believe that she was largely under the Allens’ care even at home in Fullerton?  
With these thoughts did she creak open the heavy oak door and squeeze through a half-foot gap (she didn’t want to open it fully, the door creaked very loudly when opened fully) and began her journey, padding down the hall. Every once in a while, she’d hear something and would pause, but eventually she made it to the window.  
As Catherine was not the tallest hay bale in the stack, being about a foot shorter than Henry and even shorter than that in comparison to his father and his other brother, the window ledge was high off the ground and started at her chin. She realized now that she was going to have to scale the wall just to get on the ledge. She placed one hand on the inside of the ledge and put on foot on the wall. When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she nearly screamed until she turned her head to see that it was Henry. Relief filled her chest until she remembered she was in only her nightgown- then her face saw fit to turn red and all the shades in between. His face was entirely amused, however.  
“Are you trying to escape the Abbey by way of our window?” Henry asked with a smile, withdrawing his hand from her shoulder.  
“No, of course not.” Her face was returning to its normal shade, but still she could not return his smile. “I simply wanted to see out of the window.”  
“Need a little help?”  
“That would be lovely, thank you.”  
The next thing Catherine knew, Henry lifted her by her waist and sat her on the ledge. He hoisted himself up beside her. For a moment, all Catherine could see was his long legs, clad with cotton breeches, and she couldn’t help but giggle a little, but only until she diverted her eyes to the window.  
“The stars are quite beautiful. Look, the sky is so dark and the stars are so bright.” Embarrassment subsided as she turned to look out of the window, and got caught up in the excitement of nature’s beauty. Had she been looking at Henry, she would have seen that his eyes were not directed at the sky when he replied to her.  
“It is quite beautiful, indeed.”  
Catherine continued staring out of the window, her thoughts running like a loose carriage horse, until Henry spoke up again.  
“Why did you wait until midnight to look out of the window?”  
She turned from the window and towards Henry. “I… wanted to wait until I could have a little solitude. Seeing as your servants and your family are out and about the abbey pretty much all hours of the day, midnight would be my only time.”  
“Am I intruding on your solitude, then?”  
Catherine smiled. “Not truly, though it is a bit humbling to be seen in one’s night garb.”  
Henry tilted his head and returned her smile. “In all honesty, I never noticed your gown. Though I did notice your hair- I do not believe I’ve ever seen it down.”  
“Do you not know anything of decorum, Mr. Tilney? Women and young ladies are to wear their hair up, especially in the presence of men,” she replied teasingly. She noticed his eyes swept to her hair, and lingered there. She almost shivered, as though she could feel him caressing every curl in his thoughts.  
“I do not see why- I believe your hair is lovely like it is now. I never realized the texture of your hair was so curly.”  
“Is it ever! My maid struggled when I was a younger girl to brush out my hair, with many broken brushes in the process, and when I came of age to start putting it up, poor Ethel had to experiment continually to figure out how to pin up my hair without using a thousand hair pins. My father, being a clergyman, you know, could not very well afford that many.”  
Henry laughed softly. “I do believe that you are different person when the sun goes down. You are usually so quiet, even while speaking privately to Eleanor and me.” He pointedly looked at the bright moon out the window. “Isn’t there a certain something people say about lunatics and full moons?”  
“Are you accusing me of being a lunatic? Have I yet started lunging at people with knives?”  
“Not yet, but the night is still young.”  
“and where have I pockets on my person to store a knife?”  
“Lunatics are ill-predictable, Miss Morland. For all I know, you may not even be human.”  
Playfully Catherine answered in kind. “And what may I be, you lowly human man?”  
“Perhaps a land-siren, come to bewitch us all. After all, you seemed to bewitch a Mr. Thorpe.”  
Catherine shivered. “Mr. Thorpe. I never did tell you that he thought he proposed to me and that I had accepted him, did I?”  
“I do not believe so, but at this point, I put nothing past him. He seems to be a habitual liar.”  
“Is that what you would label him as? I had thought him rather… unbearable, but never as horrendous as a liar.”  
“Did he not lie when he sent a message to my sister that you were cancelling our engagement?”  
Catherine hesitated. “Yes…”  
“And what does a liar do? He lies.”  
“Then I suppose he could be considered a liar.” She let out a sigh. “The poor woman he’ll accost into being his wife, however. That woman shan’t be me.”  
“The woman would have to be a desperate woman indeed.”  
“Mr. Tilney! I have never heard you speak so harshly of a man. Or a nonexistent woman, for that matter,” Catherine chided softly.  
“My apologies, but my diplomacy towards Mr. Thorpe can only go so far.”  
“But why? Most of your dealings with Mr. Thorpe only indirectly involve you.”  
Henry made a face which, had Catherine been more intuitive, could have been interpreted as being ‘caught’ or ‘stuck.’ However, as she was not as intuitive as possible, she saw only that her friend looked a little sheepish.  
“Mr. Thorpe, even from afar, seemed rather obnoxious. You will have to pardon my abominable rudeness.”  
“And if I don’t pardon you?”  
“Then I suppose you have my permission to push me off this ledge.”  
Catherine smiled as she glanced at him, the slight sliver of moonlight revealing his playful eyes and smirk. “I’d rather not- what if you broke your neck? I’d prefer not to go home traumatized.”  
“How thoughtful of you, Miss Morland.” He threw a glance at the window. “It looks like a storm is come. Look, the clouds are flashing with a bit of lightning and thunder, and the rain is starting to fall. Just exactly like the first night you were here.”  
“I do not believe I ever told you that I was frightened that night. Your tale, you know, of Matilda stuck with me.”  
“Did it? Well, I suppose I should take it as a compliment on my storytelling skills. I am, however, sorry that I caused you any amount of distress, Miss Morland. Horror stories are supposed to be enjoyable by not just the teller, but also by the hearer.”  
“Perhaps you should give up being a clergyman to write horror novels that will put Mrs. Radcliffe to shame, Mr. Tilney.”  
“My father would disown me as a son if I ever dared,” Henry said with a light laugh, though he was serious as the grave.  
“I believe you could if you ever did dare, however.” Impetuously, Catherine yawned. “I also believe I must be tired.”  
“It is well after midnight by now, Miss Morland. No doubt you should sleep. Shall I escort you to your chamber as to ascertain that no goblins creep out of the shadows to do you harm?” Neither shadow nor light could ever hide Henry’s impish grin- it could be heard within his voice. Catherine laughed quietly, though she had to steady herself to be sure that she didn’t fall off of the ledge.  
“Yes, that would be wonderful. It was lovely conversing with you, Mr. Tilney.”  
Henry hopped off the ledge and reached to lift Catherine. By instinct she grasped his arms to steady herself, but the contact made her limbs develop goose bumps, for some odd reason. Had she been looking at his face instead of over his shoulder, too shy to make eye contact in this awkward position, she would have seen that his eyes roved about her face, taking in every freckle, every smile wrinkle, and that there was some strange feeling in his own eyes, his face not even half a foot from her own as he lifted her. However, being the naïve Catherine Morland that she was, she soon felt her feet on the ground without the least inkling as to the shift in her dear friend’s world.  
“Yes,” he finally said a bit somberly, “it was lovely.”  
“What are you doing up so late anyhow? You’re still wearing the clothing that you wore today, with the exception of your coat.”  
Henry’s sheepish smile returned to his face. “I was reading, and writing as well.”  
“Writing? Trying to best Mrs. Radcliffe, Mr. Tilney?”  
“When I actually write a horror story, Miss Morland, you will be the first to see it.”  
“Even before Eleanor?”  
“I do not believe my sister will mind being slighted by your reading the story before she does, so… yes.”  
“How kind of you.”  
They began moving towards her chamber slowly, a mutual understanding there that they were hesitant to let the pleasant conversation come to an end. Henry had hooked his arm so that Catherine could hold onto his forearm whilst they walked, and when a harmless mouse scurried by along the wall nearest to Catherine, he felt her clutch his arm a little tighter and press in closer to him, as though the mouse required three feet of leeway.  
“I’m sorry,” she said, giving him enough room when she realized what she’d done.  
“Frightened by rodents?”  
“Not in broad daylight. Everything is a bit more frightening at night.”  
“Including myself, Miss Morland?”  
Catherine laughed easily. “No, of course not, you are just the same, I do declare.”  
Henry smiled. “I do not find you any more frightening, either.”  
Soon they stopped in front of her chamber door. Catherine extracted herself from Henry, and turned to open her door, when she abruptly turned back to Henry. Standing on tip-toes, as he was much taller than she was, she kissed his cheek lightly. In the low lighting, she could not see his burning cheeks.  
“What was that for?” He asked, for once too shocked to laugh an awkward occurrence off.  
“A thank you for lifting me onto the ledge, and for escorting me and protecting me from mutant mice.”  
The old Henry was slowly returning. “You are most welcome, Miss Morland. Let us be glad I had happened along when I did. Otherwise, you might have harmed yourself trying to climb that ledge, and then left to the mercy of mutant mice.”  
With a smile, she turned to the chamber door, and left Henry Tilney standing alone, his hand placed on the burning cheek where she had kissed him, and in an invisible puddle of yearning and awakened feelings.


End file.
